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Colonial DitQima: 



A POEM 



DELIVERED RY 



HON. R. T. W. DUKE, Jr. 

OF CHARLOTTESVILLE, VA. 

Deputy Governor-General of the Society of Colonial Wars in 
the State of Virginia, 

At the Meeting of the Society of 
Colonial Dames of Virginia, 

IN RICHMOND, VA., APRIL i8th, 1899. 



:^22^i:] 



COLONIAL VIRGINIA. 

What voices do I hear ? 
"What ghosts of old-time memories surge 
From the dim past, as we upon the verge 
Of a new century's dawning, stop and peer 
With eager eyes through all the fog and mist 
Time like a curtain hangs about dead days? 



I see an inlet kissed 
By soft sea breezes and o'er hung with haze, 
Such as our Indian Summers vet for Autumn keep 
In all this Southlantl ; and as if asleep, 

A vessel anchored there — the very first 

That ever in these cjuiet waters burst. 



And then the hum and stir 
Of busy men in fields and forests new, 
Building their homes ; and passing in review, 
Smith and his men — few braver I aver, 
Have since these same dark woodlands trod — 
And yet Virginia has not lacked for strong brave men. 



A temple l»uilt to (iod 
By pious hands next rises o'er the plain, 
\Yh()se stately tower in some sort seems to be 
Nearer than memory merely ; for I see, 
If I dream not, old Jamestown's crumbling wall 
By woman's hands protected from its fall. 



And yet what noise is this ? 
A ghost of sound that floats down throu;,fh the year.* 
Thrilling the soul with ech(x;s of old fears, 
And ugly discords, frightful as the hiss 

Of serpents in the dark ; the Indian's yell. 

Murder and fire, deep groans and silenrc then ; 



No fiends of deepest hell 
Such vengeance ever wreaked f)n sinful men. 
As on that fatal morning in the Spring, 
With treachery dark, the murderous Indian King 
Did upon those who near this self same spot 
Had made their homes and cast their humble lot. 



And yet brave souls, as when 
Ever there has been in our mother's need. 
Were then, and hen)es worthy of the meed 
That heroes merit — 'membranceof brave men. 
Risked life and all, stemming the swollen stream. 
And snatching victory from o'erwhelming might. 



Tlien like a troublous dream, 
Vexing the soul with visions that affright, 
I see a torch from Bacon's hands alight 
His own house first, then beam fast following beam 

Light freedom 's lamp, that henceforth through all days. 

Virginia's sons have trimmed and kept ablaze. 



And then dull sound of bell. 
And muffled drum, and lo ! a gust of tears, 
Blinds for a moment all the flight of years ! 
We know the sound, it is a funeral knell. 
For our first martyr in the cause of right, 
Hansford, whose memorv will forever shine ! 



For such souls should no night 
Ever their glories dim ; a statelier line 
His praise has sung ! yet these poor words of mine 
At thought of him would kindle into light ! 
He was a "rebel " ! Let us not forget 
What glories gild the word, resplendent yet. 



Then days of quiet peace. 
Upbuilding of the State, and that brave ride 
Of Spottswood's men across the mountain side, 
Into our glorious valley, from the seas ; 
The Golden Horseshoe Knights. In later years 
A nobler knighthood that same valley knew. 



Ant! now (uu- fdrin a})[)ears, 
Resplendent as the sun in ether lilue. 
When clouds have vanished, truest of the true 
10 'en thou>jh a youth, his martial visajje wcar.s 
The pntmise of the time now soon to be 
When Fate shall hail him Father of the Free. 



With him a notile son 
( >f that oltl County where my earliest hreath 
Was drawn. Brave Fry, doomed to untimely death 
"Good, just and noble," thus wrote Washiii).,'ton 
Above his j^rave; what j^rander epitaph 
By jjraniler hands insirihetl rouid man desire. 



He only who can quaff 
Pierian waters ; or lip-touched with lire 
From Heaven's own altar, should attem|)t to sinj^- 
Those brave t>ld days, when "Ct»iinlr\. (l.id.ind Kini;, 
And death to France" ran>; out unto the skv, 
That France so simmi our friend ; that Kinj/ our enemv. 



I m.iy not take the time. 
To trace th' alternate current of success 
And bitter failure: In the storm and stre.ss 
(>f these late days, small room is left for rhvnie 
In f^reater b(K)ks 'tis writ ; vnu well nv.dl, 
The mouldin;,' of our j,'^reatest warrior then. 



Yet do I find thn)ugh all, 
Whether by History writ or poet's pen, 
Our sires so bravely bore themselves, that we 
Unworthy as we are, may dauntlessly 
Look all the world in face and bid it say 
In war, in peace, what greater men than they. 



Nor need we fear today, 
Whenever for a Man loud calls the hour ; 
She who has never failed, will fail not then — 
Still courses true in every throbbing vein 
The same strong blood that made thy sons thy dower- 
Oh ! Virgin Mother of transcendent men. 



Virginia — Peerless — Queen — 
Our Old Dominion ; We who are here tonight, 
Her former glories fitly celebrate — 
Pray God that we may ever keep her great. 
And to her use our hands, our hearts, our might. 
Oh ! let us pledge anew and consecrate. 




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